


Smile, A Shot At Redemption

by ringerxo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent (mentioned), Angsty Schmoop, Cinnamon!, First Time, Hand Jobs, I tried to stay as true as possible to how I thought a first time thing would go, Kitchen Sex, Love Bites, M/M, Oh you'll get it don't worry, So just handjobs, Wolfing out a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:19:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringerxo/pseuds/ringerxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And even thought there's no way of knowing<br/>Where to go, I promise that I'm going</i>
</p><p>Things have been weird since Allison left. So to sort matters out, Derek asks Stiles for help and he pushes Scott in the right direction.</p><p>(Assuming that Scallison got back together and then this fic happened. Post-Season 2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, A Shot At Redemption

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely Maryssa (littlelamblahey on tumblr), who I honestly hope did her homework because that was the entire premise, no?
> 
> Completely un-BETAed, the end is a bit rushed - but it's Scisaac. Title derived from a grossly misheard lyric from the main inspiration song for this fic - Relient K's [Be My Escape](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvz0J0WBZPE). The song that I listened to on repeat towards the end is by an Israeli artist named Ivri Lider; the song is called [Someone Once](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3kJiCtRlVTo), and I was actually listening to [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D45GxXHciSE) version. Phenomenal song.
> 
> Anyways.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! =)

Isaac was curled into a ball on his mattress, wondering idly if he could curl into something smaller, when a loud crash from downstairs interrupted his train of thought. Since the Hale house was going through repairs, he chose to ignore it. When things crash down around you on a daily basis, you tend to grow immune after a while.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in, and exhaled tiredly when he caught Derek's scent. Derek's angry, worried scent, that was getting stronger, as if he was stalking up the sta-

The door slammed open and Derek strode in; Isaac didn't need to see his face in order to know that he was scowling deeper than usual. "Isaac!" he barked. "Why didn't you respond? That crash could have been Gerard--"

"You're remodelling," Isaac muttered dully. "And I would have scented him."

He could hear Derek sigh. "It's 4 AM, Isaac. The workmen don't start until nine."

He chose not to respond, instead wrapping his arms around his knees, which were folded up to his chest.

"Is this about Scott?"

The answer to Derek's question came in the form of flashing golden eyes, bared teeth, rumpled sandy-colored curls and a snarling growl. Isaac was on his knees, and he was ready to pounce.

But Derek had anticipated this; he was crouching, fangs bared and red eyes flashing. Isaac's wolf fell back, and his eyes dimmed to their regular blue as he slumped against the wall and stared at his hands. "I thought we had an agreement."

Derek scoffed and stood back up. "That was back when you said that you'd do something about this. It's been weeks, Isaac. She's gone. Do something."

"It's not that easy," he said, looking up at Derek. The shuttered look of clouded pain was back in his eyes, as if he was still living with his dad and facing those horrors daily.

And that troubled Derek most of all. If there's anything that he hated the most, it was when his pack harmed themselves, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He had saved them from the bleak lives they had lead up until they met him, and to see them whittle away at themselves with regret or guilt worried him more than it insulted him. He had given them power, a reason to live and a near-unbeatable way to do so, and they couldn't shake off their old problems.

Not that Derek was a shining example of letting things go, but hey. He was alpha, and even omegas could tell that something was wrong with his pack.

But unlike Scott, who had finally agreed to join the pack after Allison had left, Derek couldn't be sure that Isaac was going to solve this. And because of the delicate nature, Derek couldn't push, cajole or threaten either of them into action.

So he did the next best thing.

\---

"Back for more already?" Stile's sleepy voice greeted him as he climbed into his boyfriend's window. Stiles was still in the same position he had left him, on his back, his limbs loosely arranged and a thin sheet covering him up to his waist.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Stiles smirked at Derek, fully prepared to comment on his appetite, when he saw Derek's expression. The smirk morphed into a frown. "It's Isaac again, isn't it."

Derek sighed and climbed into bed, kicking off his shoes and leaning against the headboard. Stiles propped himself up and Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles's torso. Stiles leaned back against Derek and snorted. "This whole story sounds awfully familiar, don't you think?"

Derek grunted in response. "I don't know what to do, Stiles. Scott's on automatic, Isaac's moping, and everyone's on edge."

"Weren't Scott and Isaac bros for a while?" Stiles pulled back to look at Derek. "He did fill in for me at that game--"

"Yeah, but he's had a thing for Scott since then, and when Allison left and Scott tried to disappear, Isaac thought it was because he wasn't over Allison yet. So Isaac... He withdrew."

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek put his finger on Stiles's lips. "Don't say they have to work it out on their own, because they both have issues that'll keep them from doing just that." He removed his finger and sighed. "Something has to happen, and it has to be drastic. I have a feeling that Isaac might give up soon. He can't, because he might just run off and that—" Derek sighed in frustration. "That would be very bad."

Stiles hummed in agreement, and then grinned. Derek could practically see the gears turning in the boy's head as he came up with a plan. Stiles opened his mouth, and Derek shushed him with a finger again. "Nothing involving handcuffs or any form of restraining, because—ah, Stiles." With regret, he pulled his finger away from Stiles's mouth, where the dark-haired boy had drawn it into his mouth and had begun to suck on it.

Ignoring Derek's faint protests, a slightly smug Stiles continued. "What does Scott hate the most?" he asked, and answered himself. "Being forced into something. So we're gonna use that to our advantage." Grabbing Derek's phone, he tapped out a text and sent it to Scott, and then threw the phone into his laundry basket. Turning to Derek, he smiled deviously and let the sheet fall from around his waist.

"Oh, were you going to leave?"

A growl, a giggle-turned-sigh, and they promptly forgot about Scott.

\---

Who, half an hour later, was storming up the driveway to the Hale house. His hands were curled into fists, the rage-induced nails biting into his palms. He hadn't been this mad since he had fought for his right to be an omega; the only thing that differed was that he was fighting for his right to stay in the pack now, as absurd as that may sound.

Actually, he reflected, stopping a foot or so before the stairs to the porch, it didn't sound absurd. Allison leaving him wasn't entirely because of his 'little furry problem', as Stiles has taken to calling it. If that was the case, she would have left a long time ago.

It was because of them. Because of the pack. She hadn't made it explicitly clear, but when he told her that he had joined the pack, he knew that he was choosing between her and them. Her tight, tearful goodbye had taken his emotions from him, and left him with anger. It was far, far harder than the last time they were apart; this time, there wasn't any chance she was coming back.

As the early morning light filtered through the leaves, Scott reflected grimly on the past few weeks. Even though he joined the training sessions and nightly patrols, he didn't feel like he was part of anything. There used to be something anchoring him to reality - or the twisted version in which he was a werewolf - but even that had disappeared, leaving him at the mercy of the waves of bullshit thay were thrown at him daily.

Stiles used to be his anchor, that island of sanity where everything had a solution and nothing was safe from his sarcastic wit. Then it was Allison, and looked how *that* turned out.

And then, it was Isaac. Scared, proud, quiet Isaac. Who he hadn't spoken to for a few weeks. Every time he thought of his packmate, he'd forget to breathe for a few moments; the confusing maelstrom of emotion would rob him of basic motor functions.

After Allison had left, he realized that whenever he had to control his anger, whenever he needed an anchor to keep him from wolfing out, he thought of Isaac. But instead of content, the residual emotion left him skittish and scared.

He knew that there was something more there, something he couldn't quite name, between himself and Isaac. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt him, but he also wasn't known as the best judge of character; he didn't know if he should do anything about it, simply because he couldn't tell what Isaac felt about him.

He knew that they were friends, even closer, but since Deaton had shown Isaac how to transfer pain, Scott hadn't seen Isaac's emotions as clearly as the joy and wonder were etched on his face that day.

The memory left his stomach in knots, and as he climbed the steps to the porch and pushed the creaking door open, he firmly convinced himself that his distance from Isaac was for everyone's good. The last thing he could afford now was toying with Isaac's emotions - and with his own, fragile and tattered as they may be - and burn newly-built bridges.

Stopping in the foyer, Scott hesitantly sniffed the air. Derek's scent lingered here - after all, it was his house - but it was residual, like the smell of smoke after a fire had been put out. Derek wasn't there. Instead, he could smell an earthy, clean scent that he recognized all too well.

He turned to go, and softly cursed to himself when the smell of Isaac filled the room. He reached out for the doorknob and was about to turn it when Isaac spoke.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

Of course his tone was accusatory, he had every right to accuse him of... Whatever he wanted, really. His hand tightened on the doorknob as he ground out, "I haven't."

"Then why can't you even look at me?"

Scott would have preferred the accusatory tone over the pleading one. Because anger breeds anger, and he wouldn't have been compelled to turn around if he was angry.

Isaac was standing there, in pajama bottoms and naught else. His hair was tousled and his gaze was tired - and unreadable. Without uttering a word, he turned on his heel and strode to the kitchen; Scott, as if connected to Isaac by an invisible thread, followed.

The kitchen was the first room Derek had fully renovated, and it stood in stark contrast to the rest of the house. The gleaming black refridgerator stood next to the slate grey marble counter that wrapped around the entire room, punctuated by a dishwasher there and a twelve-spot gas range here. The middle of the room was dominated by an enormous U-shaped island, where Isaac had just set a bowl down and was now rummaging in the walk-in pantry. Scott stood there, desperately trying to come up with something to say; meanwhile, Isaac emerged with a box of Cini-Minis and poured some into the bowl. His back was to Scott, who stared at Isaac's shoulderblades as they shifted under his skin, as if they were pointing the way towards the right thing to do.

"Since Allison left, you've barely even showed up around here," Isaac said thinly, pulling a carton of milk out of the fridge and pouring it on top of the cereal. "You joined the pack so you wouldn't be alone, and I - we were fully prepared to help you, but you tucked your tail between your legs and ran." Grabbing a spoon, he dug into the bowl and was chewing on his first spoonful when Scott finally chose to speak.

"You became my anchor," he blurted out, looking at his fingers toying with the edge of his sleeve. The sound of chewing stopped; Scott chanced a glance at Isaac, whose shock was as plain as the scent of cinnamon on the air. The spoon was poised above the bowl as Isaac swallowed, shoved the spoon back into the bowl and continued eating morosely, his expression shuttered again.

"Allison stopped being my anchor when Derek told me about what she did to Boyd," Scott continued softly, moving closer to Isaac. "By then, as hard as I tried to deny it, I was already part of the pack, and I couldn't downplay my anger by thinking of someone who did something so horrible.

"It took me a while to realize that I no longer thought of her as a mate, which is why it took me so long to get over her. And by the time I come to all these conclusions, the entire pack hates me and you're avoiding me."

Isaac raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't the only one doing the avoiding, McCall," he bit out, taking another bite of the cereal and talking around it. "You didn't spend a second of un-training related time with the pack. And what's more-" He raised his spoon and pointed Scott's way, when the older werewolf lost it.

"Will you stop eating for a minute and take this seriously?" he asked indignantly. Isaac's eyes flashed, and he set his empty bowl down on the counter.

"Why?" he asked quietly. "Should I put my life on hold for you? Do you want me to wait until Scott McCall resolves all his issues?" His voice remained quiet, but his eyes spoke volumes - anger, resentment, and pain. "Trust me, if I suspended normal life on account of every painful thing that happened to me, you can be damn sure that I wouldn't be here.

"I learned a long time ago that placing my fate in someone else's hands isn't the best idea. So instead of pining over someone I can't have--" He stopped abruptly, his eyes wide, and closed his mouth, letting the empty bowl fall from his suddenly-weak grip into the sink next to him with a loud clatter.

Scott frowned. "What... Oh." His eyes widened and he stared at Isaac. "Me? You were pining over me?"

If the moment wasn't so tense, Isaac would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he was busy fighting his instinct to run fast and far, find another pack, anything, just be somewhere where Scott isn't suddenly standing right in front of him and pressing two fingers under his chin for him to raise his head and--

Oh.

Isaac blinked, Scott's lips on his. His train of thought was thrown into deeper turmoil, even more so when Scott hummed a bit; he let his eyelids flutter closed, and-- big mistake.

Images of Scott and Allison flashed before his eyes. The ones that he didn't want to remember, like any one where they were touching. And then his father--

A spasm of fear and pain wracked through him and he pulled away violently, stumbling backwards and nearly falling. He caught the edge of the counter with one hand and touched his lips with the other, staring at Scott, whose shocked gaze was quickly becoming a lost one. He shivered and turned to leave; Isaac panicked. "No," he protested weakly. "Don't-- Scott, wait!"

"Why should I wait for you to decide, Lahey?" Scott asked harshly, his back still to Isaac.

"You don't have to," Isaac heard himself say. "I've decided."

Scott's head rose at that, and he turned to look at Isaac. "And?"

A burst of wild, hopeful energy found Isaac crossing the room in a few long strides, grabbing Scott's arm, shoving him against the wall, and lowering his head to claim the older boy's mouth.

The kiss wasn't hesitant, like the first one. It was hard, and abusive, and fangs were involved for a part; Scott moaned into Isaac's mouth, and the sandy-haired boy responded by sliding his fingers into Scott's hair and pulling, hard. Scott's fingers flexed weakly against the wall, held up there by Isaac's other hand.

When they broke apart for air, Scott panted while Isaac preferred to bury his nose in the crook of Scott's neck, breathing deeply. Scott laughed breathlessly. "We are so fucking dense."

Isaac 'mm-hmm'ed into Scott's neck, licking at it when Scott laughed again. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting," Scott murmured into Isaac's curls, tracing the shell of his ear with a newly-released hand; Isaac's hands were now at his waist. He was hyper-aware of those elegant hands all over him, especially since it was finally, blessedly real. "Since Allison left, it's been one confusion after another, and you were the only thing I was sure about." He kissed the top of Isaac's head and said, "It felt like forever, like you were unattainable..."

"I was always here," Isaac reminded him gently. "You weren't looking."

Scott raised Isaac's head to him again, and said, "Now I am." He leaned in for another kiss, searing and breathless with a bit of tongue, then added mischieviously, "And I love what I see."

The glint in Scott's eyes faded as Isaac paused and stared at him, something predatory in those green eyes catching Scott off guard. "What-- mmph!"

Isaac had picked him up and smashed his lips to Scott's, fingers pressing into Scott's hips with bruising force. Scott immediately wrapped his legs around Isaac's waist, hands going to grip a non-existent shirt and instead falling on Isaac's chest, where he could feel Isaac's heartbeat speed up as he kissed him back, opening his mouth with a moan, fingers curling against the sculpted muscles and brushing against Isaac's nipples.

Then, Scott felt a smooth, hard surface under him. He pulled back and opened his eyes; he was seated on the island in the kitchen, with Isaac standing in between his parted legs and toying with the hem of Scott's shirt, looking at him with that unreadable gaze again. Swallowing the sudden knot that rose in his throat, Scott nodded; Isaac proceeded to pull off the shirt quickly and throw it somewhere behind him. They paused for a moment, searching each other's gazes, before Isaac broke the rules.

"God--!" Scott choked out; he could feel Isaac's mouth curl up against his collarbone into a smile (he was sure it was a smirk, but did it really matter?), as his hand cupped Scott through his rather-tight-now jeans.

"It's Isaac, wolfboy," Scott dimly heard Isaac say smugly from the general region of his-- what-- oh holy fucking teeth and tongue.

Scott threw his head back and groaned, gripping the edge of the counter. Isaac's mouth was on one of his nipples as the other hand deftly undid his fly. As soon as his jeans were unfastened, Isaac transferred his attentions to the other nipple and was rewarded with another groan.

Before he could slip his dancing fingers past the waistband of Scott's boxers, the older boy pulled Isaac up by the ear to devour his mouth in a dirty kiss. Isaac's grin at being pulled up by the ear didn't last long; after all, when you're kissing someone who's intent on licking his way into your mouth in alternate rhythms while shoving his hands into the waistband of your pajama bottoms and pulling you closer so that your erections brushed against each other, a smiling boy is most likely to morph into a compliant, messy, needy man.

Coming up for air, Isaac gasped. "You're throwing me off track," he breathlessly admonished Scott, whose insolent grin slid off his face, to be replaced by arousal as Isaac pulled him off the island to a standing position, and slid down to his knees, pulling Scott's jeans down with him.

His breath hitching, Isaac looked at the tent in Scott's boxers. At this point, even though he dearly wanted to crack a joke, he couldn't say a word. Since it was his first time—well, ever, he decided to take it slow.

A thrill of excitement shivered its way down his spine as he pulled Scott's boxers down. His cock was hard, slightly thick, and when Isaac tentatively slid his fingers around its base, he marveled at the contrast between the heat and the smooth skin.

Looking up, he caught Scott's gaze, tenderness and desire warring. But thankfully, he wasn't doing anything. So, Isaac drew his grip towards the tip, and Scott closed his eyes and panted. Repeating the action made Scott grip the counter so hard that his knuckles went white; emboldened by this, Isaac leaned forwards and gave an experimental lick to the tip.

It tasted… different. Not good, not bad, just… different. Isaac decided that he didn't mind it, so he gave it a few more kitten licks and looked up at Scott to gauge his reaction.

If he was to judge by Scott's completely dilated pupils except for a faint ring of amber, and the sharp teeth biting his lip, he liked it.

Grinning to himself, Isaac leaned a bit further in and sucked the tip into his mouth, an action that triggered the longest string of swearing Isaac had ever heard Scott utter. He was shaking, and even his swearing became stilted, and then—

"Isaac!"

Isaac pulled off and looked up. Scott's bottom lip was bleeding from where he had bit into it; Isaac got to his feet and lapped at it curiously, cleaning the blood. The metallic taste melted into the taste of Scott on his tongue, and when he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, Scott moaned.

Isaac could feel Scott push his pajama bottoms off his hips. Holding his breath, he released it in a rush when Scott's fingers brushed his cock; he nearly choked when Scott grasped him and, slowly, began stroking him.

Isaac groped for Scott's cock as well, finding it and mimicking Scott's actions. They kissed messily, until Isaac pulled away and leaned his forehead on Scott's shoulder, panting harshly.

"Scott, I'm—" is all he managed to get out, before he stuttered into a shout as he came over Scott's hand. Scott came a few seconds later, biting into Isaac's shoulder.

Isaac sagged against Scott. His legs felt dangerously wobbly, but his heart was beating really fast in a really good way. He lowered his head to press open-mouthed kisses on Scott's shoulder and jaw, finally reaching his mouth. These kisses were short, but intense.

After a while, Scott murmured, "We should probably get our things and go to your room."

Isaac raised an eyebrow at him. "Already?"

Scott shook his head and laughed, a blush suffusing his cheeks. "No," he said, "just so Derek won't walk in on us like this here."

"Can we cuddle?" Isaac asked plainly, when they reached his room with their clothing in hand.

Scott turned to look at him with a searching gaze. They both knew the real question; Scott finally nodded his head.

Isaac smiled, kissed Scott on the nose, and lay down on his bed; Scott followed a few moments later, settling into Isaac's open arms with a content sigh.

After a few minutes of silence in which Isaac nosed Scott's hair and decided that it was his favorite scent in the world aside from rain and coffee, Scott said, "We're gonna have to talk about this a bit more, you know."

Isaac hummed in agreement.

"But it doesn't have to be now."

Isaac smiled again. "No, it doesn't. Now, we cuddle."

And they did just that.

FIN.


End file.
